


Pray to Me

by louisvuittontrashbags



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M, Face-Fucking, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:16:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louisvuittontrashbags/pseuds/louisvuittontrashbags
Summary: Reader stops in at an abandoned temple to Ifrit and receives his blessing. (The blessing is his flaming dick.)





	Pray to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Contains some mild degradation.

Ifrit’s Temple—a run-down, abandoned ruin around the edge of civilization. Despite the dangerous times you lived in, daemons always seemed to give the building a wide berth; perhaps vestiges of the Infernian’s magic still lingered in the stone. You’d hunkered down in the building during a bad rainstorm one night on your way to work, and ever since that night you’d felt a sort of connection to the place; it was always so peaceful in the area, and the temple had its own ancient beauty.

You bend down to light a candle in the ruins of the altar, whispering a quiet prayer you’d found in your research. The words feel clumsy and unfamiliar to your tongue, but your intentions are sincere. _Perhaps if we’d remembered these words he never would have betrayed us in the first place. Sorry on behalf of all of us._

As you dust off your hands and make to rise to your feet, a sudden gust of wind slams the door behind you shut, extinguishing the candle and leaving you in pitch blackness. Your hand scarcely reaches into your pocket for your phone before the room is illuminated once more, but a blast of hot air knocks you back, forcing your eyes shut. It’s unbearably hot, the once-cool stone beneath your palms and backside now warming rapidly.

You can feel a powerful presence in the room even before you open your eyes; the sight that greets you when you open them is at once awe-inspiring and terrifying. A large humanoid figure with orange skin, fiery eyes, and long dark hair regards you with a bold stare. Large, curled horns sprout from either side of his head, a golden crown nestled between them, and his arms are decorated with fine gold bracers.

_Ifrit. The Infernian. God of fire. Betrayer of humanity._

His visage is intimidating, but there’s an otherworldly beauty to his divine features. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, your heart pumping wildly beneath your ribcage. You want to say something, anything, but the words won’t come.

“For what purpose have you summoned me, mortal?” Those glowing eyes are searing into your skin. You can hardly breathe.

“S-summoned-”

“Have you lost your nerve already?”

You swallow thickly. “No.” You search for some explanation. What the hell had you been thinking of, exactly? “I only meant to… pay my respects.”

“Your predecessors used that particular invocation when they had need for my gifts. My blessings. Do you desire something of me?”

“D-desire?”

He smiles cruelly. “A wish… a boon of some sort, perhaps.”

You nod, entirely uncertain what it is you’d even ask for. _But if he’s offering…_

“My lord-”

“Humans have changed little over the millenia. You stumble in here, entirely unaware of what you’ve done, yet you have the audacity to ask something of me. Here’s your gift—I will allow you to leave here with your wretched life intact. I will stay my divine flames from broiling the flesh off your pathetic bones.”

His words send a shiver of fear through you; despite the heat radiating from him your insides feel cold. The smile is gone from his face. “I-I only meant to pay homage to you, my lord. Not all of us have forgotten the gifts you gave humanity. I wished to honor you. I have no need for a gift, or even your blessing. Your mercy is enough.”

Your words seem to have reached him, because he smiles again. “Such beautiful words delivered so sincerely. One might almost be inclined to believe you.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“The need rolls off of you in great waves. It is as obvious to me as the fear gripping that tiny body.”

“What need?”

Ifrit’s eyes darken. “Foolhardy and dense? What a combination. Need. Lust. Desire.”

You gape at him, unable to form the words to respond. _How could he know?_

He smiles again, even on the face of a god there’s no mistaking this sort of expression. “I can sense the ache between your legs, the wetness of your underclothes. I can smell your arousal. You cannot hide yourself from a god.”

You squeeze your thighs together instinctually, and he grins now, displaying his teeth to you. “There was a time when I partook in the pleasures of the flesh with mortal women, before my love came to me. The shape of your body, weak though it may be, is not displeasing.” Those smoldering eyes rove over you. “I particularly enjoyed taking mortals with a similar appearance to your own.”

_Is a god hitting on me?_ It’d been ages since you’d felt anything but the touch of your trusty vibrator. His words do nothing to ease your frustration. He steps forward, gazing down at you, his eyes like embers.

“I have watched you for some time; I have seen the way you revere my sanctuary. You are unlike the others, you respect the old ways. Your thighs clench at the mere mention of your desire for me. Shall I reward you after all, sweet mortal?”

Your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton. _Is this a trick?_ He looks at you with the same lustful gaze as any human man. _Men are men are men, in the end._ But you are in no position to make any such pronouncements. You take in a breath to speak but all that comes out of you is a tense exhale. 

He laughs, but there’s a note of danger in his voice. “My generosity will only last for so long. Make your decision, and make it quickly.”

Once again words fail you in the face of divinity, so you decide to try a less complex form of communication.

You raise a shaking hand to the zipper of your hoodie, drawing it slowly down your chest, your eyes locked onto Ifrit’s blazing stare. Your mouth is dry and your pulse roars in your ears; you pray he’ll return your advance, if you can call it that, but the thought is barely out of your mind before you’re overrun. 

Ifrit is there above you, his blazing hands tearing through your clothing effortlessly. He’s taken a more manageable form, but he still towers over you; he must be near seven feet tall. You dimly wonder how you’ll return home without any clothes, but his searing touch has you arching beneath him as he bends to put his lips to your neck.

“I’d forgotten how fragile you mortals are.” His touch is like fire, consuming you like so much kindling. When finally raises his lips to your own it’s intoxicating; he tastes like smoke and spice and strange things you can’t put a name to. His tongue is so long and warm in your mouth; the thought of what else he might be able to do with it sends a shiver down your spine.

He pulls away from you suddenly, cupping your jaw in one massive hand so that your cheeks are squeezed and your lips pursed. “A shame you’re already on your back… there’s nothing quite like the sight of a mortal on their knees, begging for my favor.” His pants are gone already, his hard length grasped in his hand.

His cock is unlike any you’ve ever seen on a mortal man; it’s large and intimidating as you’d expected, but it glows with fiery veins like burning embers. The underside of his shaft is gray and decorated with intricate marks matching those on his left arm. 

He strokes himself as he looks down at you, his eyes ablaze with lust. “Beg for me.”

“Please, my lord.” The anticipation alone has your sex growing wetter by the moment. “Please bless me with your divine cock.”

“Continue.”

“I need to taste you, I-” Your throat is dry, sticking to itself, but the words flow, perhaps by sheer force of need. “I want you to fill my mouth, to make me your mortal whore.”

“My whore? Not my lover?” He grins wickedly.

“I know what I am to you. I know my place. Use me. Give my pathetic life meaning. Take your pleasure from me and leave me crying on the floor, broken and ecstatic.”

His smile falters, but only for a fraction of a second. He’s on you again, pushing his burning cock past your lips and into your mouth, one large hand tangling into your hair and pulling your head up from the ground. “Your mouth is so small and cold.” He exhales at the feel of your tongue swirling around the head of his arousal. “Not nearly as cold as hers, but it’ll do.”

He yanks at your hair, pulling you up and down his length, laughing when he hears you gag on his spirited thrusts. “Are you breaking already? We’ve only just begun.” It’s all a blur of sensation—hot, full, overwhelmed. He fucks your mouth brutally, extracting his pleasure from you even as you willingly give yourself to him. This is what it means to surrender yourself to a god’s embrace. He’s relentless, stopping only when he’s decided he’s had enough.

“I grow tired of that cool little mouth.” His voice is low, laced with desire and greed. “I want to feel your heat.”

“Take me then, my lord.” Your mouth can barely form the words, but you’re propelled forward by your desire once more. 

Large, warm hands settle on your knees, pushing them firmly down and apart for him. He gazes down at your sex. “I’d almost forgotten how much I enjoy this moment.” He lets his still-wet length drop from his fist onto your clit with a soft thud, his eyes taking in every movement. 

“There is no turning back from this point, mortal. Are you prepared to have that weak body rent asunder by divine pleasure?”

“Please.”

He’s inside of you before you can even process it; it’s like being burned from the inside-out with a hot poker. You want to scream, but the feeling is beyond even such basic expression. He towers over you, his strong arms on either side of your body. “Impossible. Nothing on this earth could prepare your primitive vessel for my blessings. But it is charming that you think yourself ready for me.” 

The white-hot pain is so overwhelming the pleasure sneaks up on you. It’s slow at first, a small wave creeping against the shore, but it’s steady. As your body begins to adjust to the sheer heat of him the pleasure grows, the waves growing larger and more frequently until they’re crashing into you, wracking your body. You can start to distinguish the feel of him inside of you, those flaming veins, the way his cock widens a few inches in.

He smiles at you, a predatory expression. “There’s not many mortals who can withstand this sort of joining with a god. That you can derive any pleasure from it at all is an achievement.” 

He kisses you again, his hot tongue bathing you in that heady mix of spice and smoke once more. He drives his cock into you with a divine fury— _is this what it means when people say they’d hit it like the fist of an angry god?_ His dick drills into that special place inside of you that makes your toes curl, makes you see stars. Beneath all the heat and intensity you can feel a pleasure so immense you’re not certain your body will be able to withstand it. The waves that once lapped at the shores of your body are now pounding, crashing, threatening to sweep you away. 

Ifrit must be able to sense that you’re close, because he increases his already hellish pace, growling out a command to you. “Submit to your god, pray to me now. Call your lord and master’s name as you come, mortal whore.”

Your orgasm tears through your body at his command, his words pushing you over the edge. The first wave hits you and your eyes roll back in your head, pleasure shooting through your limbs, but it’s only just begun. Your muscles tense and your back arches, but still your peak climbs ever higher. 

“Ifrit! Ah-ahh, Ifrit!” His name falls from your lips in a chant, a literal prayer to a god who is actually listening. 

He shows no signs of stopping, fucking you through your release and dragging your orgasm further. Your body feels as if it’s on fire, your limbs melting into liquid, and yet Ifrit still pushes your sex beyond its limits, riding you harder. Tears stream down your cheeks, your mouth open as you scream his name. If you could speak you’d beg him for mercy, but all you can do is cry his name with the last breath remaining in your lungs. Black swims on the edge of your vision, stars bursting in your eyes, but you can just make out Ifrit groaning as he withdraws himself from you, shooting his astral seed across your belly. You’d cry out in pain if you were able, but you succumb to the darkness.

You jerk awake, the temple now lit once more, although the door is still closed. Your muscles tense in pain when you try to sit up—there’s a strange glowing mark on your abdomen, reminiscent of the veins on Ifrit’s shaft. When you try to touch it pain shoots through your torso, so you resolve to leave it alone for the moment. Inspecting the rest of your person yields no other surprises, save one solid gold armband on your right bicep; it looks suspiciously like the ones Ifrit had worn. You try to stand, but your legs are too weak, the best you can do is crawl towards your pack. As sleep overtakes your weary body, you can almost swear you hear Ifrit’s voice in your ear.

_“Continue to honor my name, mortal, and perhaps I’ll bless that weak body once more. Sleep now.”_


End file.
